


Shine Bright Like a Diamond

by seraphina_snape



Category: Leverage
Genre: (choose your own pairings at any rate), Anal Sex, Banter, Case Fic, Choose Your Own Adventure, Comfort Sex, Established Relationship, Family Feels, First Time, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Frottage, Gen, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, No cheating, Post-Canon, Rescue, Shower Sex, Team as Family, Threesome - F/M/M, Undercover, features a married lesbian couple, sort of, synthetic diamonds, you can skip the smut chapters and read this as gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Judy comes to the Leverage team for help, she's desperate. Her wife is being held against her will - but without proof, there is nobody to help her... nobody except the Leverage team. </p><p>After accepting the case, the team has to travel all the way to Europe to save Andrea and bring the bad guys to justice. Then things take a turn for the worse and Parker has to call in reinforcements. Can the team still bring Andrea home in time for Christmas?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phase One: The Client Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynne_monstr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/gifts).



> I have so many notes. :p
> 
> First of all a giant THANK YOU ♥ to fleurlb for agreeing to beta this monster of a fic at really short notice. You're a star! ♥ ♥ ♥ Any remaining mistakes are almost guaranteed to be a result of me not taking her advice. *g*
> 
> Secondly, to lynne_monstr: I hope you like the fic. I looked at your likes/dislikes and prompts for a week and then had several vague ideas. I wanted so much to write a crossover fic, but then I ended up with this. :p Basically, I took a bunch of different things from your likes, added your favourite pairings, and here we are. I didn't exactly plan for it to get this long, but the more the better, right? :p
> 
> Third: I know the tags and relationships listed in the header might be confusing, so I want to make this really clear: there is no cheating in this fic. This fic is set up so that you can read this as a gen story, an Eliot/Quinn story or a Hardison/Parker/Eliot story. Eliot is not involved with Parker and Hardison AND Quinn. It's an either/or thing. You get to pick & choose which one you prefer and you can skip the one you don't. (Or you can read both, if you want, but please keep in mind that they're showing you two different versions of what could have happened.)
> 
> Fourth: I tagged this with "graphic depictions of violence" to be on the safe side, but you won't see anything worse than on Leverage.
> 
> Fifth: The title is from a song by Rhianna. It seemed appropriate. :p
> 
> Sixth: I did a ton of research. I'll put some of it into the notes at the bottom of the fic in case you're interested. 
> 
> Okay, now on to the story!
> 
> Edit (Jan 04, 2015): The lovely banner was made by Telaryn! Thank you, dear!

As a rule, client meetings didn't follow any clear-cut protocol. But the reality looked slightly different, now that Parker was in charge of the plans. 

One thing Parker didn't like about being the new mastermind was the client meetings. Nate always knew how to talk to people. He knew when to be sympathetic, when and - more importantly - _how_ to ask the difficult questions and he knew when to shut up. Parker was never sure about any of it, but she could fake it well enough. 

It helped that Eliot usually joined her, giving her subtle cues when she overlooked something. Sometimes she wished Hardison could be there - he was _the best_ at figuring out emotions - but he usually stayed in the back, preparing the information dump that would get them started on the job. 

Parker looked down at her Ipad and called up her client meeting notes. Step one of the client meeting: greeting and making sure the client was comfortable.

Judy Millner-Pratt looked so miserable that Parker sighed. She'd never be able to cross off step one on her list. 

Eliot shot her a look and stood up to greet the client. Parker settled for a smile that started to feel awkward by the time the client was finally sitting in the chair across the table. 

"Judy, right?" Parker said. "I'm Parker, this is Eliot. We're here to help you." 

Judy smiled thinly. "Thanks. It's nice to meet you." 

Parker doubted it - very few of the clients actually wanted to meet them. They found the team because they needed help, not because they wanted to make new friends. 

"Coffee? Tea? Something else?" 

"Tea, please," Judy said. "I don't think I need the caffeine." 

Parker smiled and didn't point out that tea also had caffeine. 

Judy looked a little less lost with a cup of tea in her hands. 

"You said something about a kidnapping on the phone," Parker prompted, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. It wasn't as good as the one Eliot made, but the Brew Pub's staff couldn't be held to the same standards. After all, Eliot was a true wizard in the kitchen.

Judy nodded, her eyes filling with tears. 

Parker gave Eliot an alarmed look. If the client started crying before they'd even reached step two (get the _full_ story), they'd never get anywhere. Eliot jerked his head towards Judy. Parker grimaced but scooted her chair closer to Judy, putting her hand awkwardly on Judy's arm. 

"It's okay," she said, wishing that their old aliases hadn't been burned. Alice would have been great at this. Parker? Not so much. Her only option was to pretend to be Sophie for a while and silently offer Judy a tissue. 

Judy sniffled into the tissue, her shoulders shaking. 

Parker concentrated on not saying much of anything that came to her mind, _especially_ if it was true. It was usually the wrong thing to say and Eliot would give her that look, the "there's something wrong with you" look. The look didn't mean that Eliot disliked her or liked her less because she sometimes said or did the wrong thing, but it still hurt when he did it.

Judy eventually calmed down and wiped away the tears, wiping at her face with another tissue helpfully supplied by Parker. Eliot gave her an approving nod and glanced at Parker's Ipad which still had the client interview step-by-step guide file open. 

Parker gave Judy a critical look. Judy's hair was messy, but not in an "I paid $200 for this hairstyle" way. More in the "I haven't been sleeping well for a while" way. Up close Parker could see that her skin was dry and blotchy from crying, even though Judy's dark complexion hid it well. Judy looked like a person who'd lost someone very important to her. 

Parker suppressed her sigh. This was probably as comfortable as Judy could be for the time being. Time for step two: get the full story. 

"So," Parker said briskly. 

Eliot's eyebrows drew together. 

"I mean, uh, I know this is hard," she continued a little softer. "But we need to know the whole story if we're supposed to help you. If you're ready, we're here to listen." 

Judy took a fortifying breath and squared her shoulders. "My wife is being held prisoner by her boss," Judy stated bluntly, "and you're kind of my last chance to get her back."

"Last chance?" Eliot asked. "What did the police say?" 

Judy let out a humorless laugh. "That there is no case," she said. "Andrea is free to work wherever she wants. They say there is no crime. And since this crosses jurisdictions, nobody wants to go out on a limb for something they think isn't even anything." 

Judy gave Parker a hard, searching look, then turned towards Eliot. "My wife is being held against her will. The police won't do anything. The private detective I hired died under mysterious circumstances. There is nobody else who's willing to help me." 

Parker nodded sympathetically. "Start at the beginning," she said. "Tell us everything." 

Judy nodded. "I met Andrea in London. I was on vacation, she was on a quick weekend trip. She was in her last semester, studying art restoration in the Netherlands. After she got her degree, Andrea came back to the States and we met up again, started dating. Andrea tried a few different jobs - art restoration, museum tour guide, jewelry restoration." She smiled softly, then sighed and brushed her hair out of her face. "I'm a lot more practical. I'm a financial consultant, so while Andrea tried to find the perfect job for her, I made sure we had food on the table. Andrea eventually found her dream job - she ended up in the diamond business as a cutter." 

Parker sat up a little straighter, trying not to look too excited. "Diamond cutting can be lucrative if you're good."

Judy nodded. "Andrea is _very_ good. She did a lot of freelance work until she started working at Brack Diamonds about ten months ago. She got a two-year contract and the money was really good. We'd been talking about starting a family, so this job came at exactly the right time. The only catch was that Brack Diamonds is a Dutch company, and Andrea would have to move to the Netherlands. But she had lived there before, and she knew the language, so we weren't worried. I quit my job and went with her, doing freelance consulting with a bunch of European companies, telling them where they could save money more effectively and achieve a more environmentally sustainable way of doing business. It was pretty successful, too." 

Judy sighed deeply. "Everything was great - for about four months. Then things started to change. Andrea came home one day, and she was upset. You see, Brack Diamonds is run by Bernhard Brack. His brother Bertold Brack runs a company called Brack Synthetics. Andrea found out they were selling the synthetic diamonds that Bertold produced as natural diamonds. On a grand scale." 

Parker tilted her head to the side, nodding. "Synthetic diamonds are worth a less than natural ones, so they're making a profit if they can sell them without declaring them synthetic. Andrea discovered their little scheme?" 

"It's fraud, plain and simple," Judy said. "At first Andrea thought it was a mix-up or a paperwork error. She brought it up with Bernhard and he said he'd take care of it. But it kept happening." Judy snorted. 

"He took care of it by having his goons send us anonymous notes in the mail. Death threats. Things like _Keep your mouth shut or we'll kill you._ Andrea found one in her car saying 'look under the car; next time there won't be a note' and when she looked, the brake lines had been cut and fluid was leaking out. It went on for weeks. Of course we don't have proof that it was Brack behind all this. Andrea wanted to quit and leave." 

"He didn't let her?" Eliot guessed. 

Judy shook her head. "They sent a car to drive her to and from work each day. Someone from Brack's security force always hung around outside the house. Brack said it was a security measure to protect us, but of course it was to keep us there and scared." 

"Did you contact the police?" 

"We didn't have proof! It all looked above board, like we were complaining about silly stuff. _Oh, your boss is sending a Mercedes to drive you around, such hardship!_ We tried, but nobody would listen to us." 

"Corrupt cops," Parker suggested. "It happens all the time." 

Judy half-shrugged. "Part of the problem is that Brack's people didn't actually _do_ anything to us except threaten and intimidate us. They even let me travel for my work. Andrea convinced me to stay gone, to go back home to the US and get help. Only I've been trying for two months to get anyone to listen to me, to help Andrea, and nobody will do anything!" 

"You mentioned a private detective," Eliot prompted. 

"Yes." Judy nodded. "You see, after I left, Andrea's phone calls were always short and she never said much beyond 'I'm fine, honey' and 'I love you'. She never responded to my emails or letters. So I hired an investigator. He found out that Andrea got a 24-hour escort after I left. They've got someone in the house with her at all times. They let her call me, sure, but we can't say anything with these people listening in all the time. The last update I got from him said that they were moving Andrea from our house in Amsterdam to the company apartment on the Brack Diamond property."

"What happened then?" 

Judy shrugged. "The next time I called the investigator, someone else was on the phone. They told me the guy who'd rented the office before them had died in a car accident." 

"That's very suspicious timing if nothing else," Eliot said. "Don't worry, we'll look into it." 

"Yeah." Parker nodded. "We'll get Andrea back for you."

Judy looked at Parker, hope and resignation and desperation written into every line of her face. "Do you really think you can?" 

Parker nodded, trying to make her smile as reassuring as she could. "It's what we do."


	2. Phase Two: The Job

"Yo, man," Hardison said when Eliot and Parker came into the back room. "I've been researching this Brack dude while you two were talking to Judy, and he's trouble all right." 

"He's holding a woman prisoner so she can work for him," Eliot grouched. "Of course he's trouble!" 

"No, no, no," Hardison said, "I mean this guy is major trouble. First of all, he and his brother are super rich." He clicked the remote towards the giant screens mounted on the walls, and they flickered to life, showing various newspaper clippings and online articles about Bernard and Bertold Brack and their respective companies. 

"Brack Synthetics started out producing a variety of synthetic materials. Bertold is the older brother; he took over the company from dear old dad. He's on a business trip in Asia right now, looking to expand his client pool. He'll be back after the new year and while he's gone, his younger brother Bernhard is going to run both businesses. Bernhard worked at Brack Synthetics for a few years before he started his own business in the diamond trade. After Bernhard's business was established, Brack Synthetics started to specialize on synthetic diamond production." 

"Yeah, because that timing isn't at all suspicious," Eliot muttered. 

"You'd think someone would notice," Hardison agreed, "but Brack Synthetics officially only produces industrial grade diamonds for abrasive surfaces and other industrial uses." 

"So he's producing gem quality diamonds on the side," Parker said thoughtfully. "You know, I'm pretty sure Judy wasn't lying, but there has to be something else going on. It doesn't make much sense to keep Andrea prisoner. They could have just fired her or been a little more careful about their little side business." 

"Little?" Eliot said. "From what Judy said, it didn't sound so little." 

Parker stared at him for several minutes, long enough that Eliot felt like he was missing something. 

"Synthetic diamonds as gemstones aren't very common," she said in a tone that implied she was narrating common knowledge. "They're like a cheaper alternative if you can't afford a real one, but the market still isn't very large. Brack would only be selling these synthetic diamonds on a small scale." She reached into her pocket and took out two small, sparkling stones. 

Hardison stared for a moment, wordlessly pointing at her with the remote. "Did you--? How--? Are you just carrying diamonds around in your pocket all day?" 

Parker shrugged. "Sometimes, yeah. Why?" 

Eliot rolled his eyes as Hardison spluttered. "No reason," he said before Hardison had a chance to go off on a tangent. "I'm guessing one of these is fake." 

Parker shot him a proud grin. "Yep. You can't distinguish a synthetic diamond from a real one with the naked eye. Color, cut, chemical composition - they look like diamonds and you can't tell if they were mined in Africa or grown in a lab somewhere." 

"But there is a way to tell them apart," Eliot guessed. "Or people would be making and selling fake diamonds the size of my head." 

"Exactly." Parker looked at Hardison. "Can I have your UV light?" 

Hardison went through his junk drawer and came up with a working UV light a minute later. 

"Watch this." Parker switched on the light and all three of them leaned in to look at the diamonds. One of them was giving off a blue glow, the other a faint greenish-yellow one.

"About 30% of natural diamonds show fluorescence. Of those, more than 95% fluoresce blue. This," Parker said, picking up the green-glowing diamond, "is a HPHT diamond. Notice the different color." 

Parker switched off the UV light and the green glow around the diamond seemed to linger a little, enough for Eliot to blink a few times to clear his vision. Parker noticed and said, "No, it's the diamond. Some synthetic diamonds are also phosphorescent." 

She pocketed both diamonds again. "Any idiot can run a black light over a diamond, but very few private buyers ever bother. But if Brack is selling synthetic diamonds on a commercial level, to other buyers who work for the rich and the famous, there is no way he would get away with it because UV light is one of the first tests. Not to mention that a trained expert with access to the newest testing technology would see and recognize the difference in growth pattern and internal shapes in the diamond itself. So unless everyone except the end client is in on it, I don't see how this operation is worth the exposure he's risking because of Andrea and Judy." 

Hardison made a thoughtful sound, one finger help up in a 'wait a minute' gesture. He headed back to his laptop and moments later, a flyer appeared on the screens. It was for a "grand opening" of Brack Diamonds' newest location in Amsterdam. "Word is that Brack plans to cut and auction off a 64 carat diamond in front of a live audience." 

"Woah," Parker said. "A diamond that size, even after it's been cut, would go for about 15 to 20 million dollars, depending on final size and cut. That much money can certainly be a motive for _something_ , but the diamond can't be fake." 

"Why not? I don't have a record of anyone selling Brack a diamond that size," Hardison said. "What if Brack developed a method to make synthetic diamonds that don't fluoresce?" 

"Wouldn't help," Parker said, shaking her head emphatically. "There are two ways to make synthetic diamonds. High pressure and high temperature - that's pretty much exactly what it sounds like. It's the more common method, but it's not exactly cheap, so while the synthetic diamonds are cheaper than the natural ones of a comparative size, the difference isn't enough to scam large amounts of money."

She stood up and started pacing. Hardison, after hastily stepping out of her way twice, rounded the counter and sat in Parker's abandoned chair next to Eliot. 

"There is another method called CVD - chemical vapor deposition. Carbon-rich gas is introduced to a vacuum and a diamond builds up in deposition layers on a surface. It's way cheaper, but it's also easy to spot that the diamond didn't grow naturally. Natural diamonds grow in octahedral shapes, and this one would be in layers. If he wants to cut the diamond with an audience, he'll have an expert there to validate the stone - I'm guessing that's gonna be Andrea. But you can still tell the difference after it's been cut, and the potential buyer would probably seek independent validation since Andrea works for Brack. And," she added, twirling around and coming to face them, "synthetic diamonds are never that large."

"Science advances every day, girl," Hardison argued. 

"Well, okay," Parker admitted. "If you could somehow produce a gemstone quality diamond of that size that wasn't detectable by the usual means, then that process could make the Brack brothers even richer and a lot more criminal than they already are. Unless they're clean...?"

Hardison shook his head. "I poked around their computers for a bit - there's definitely some tax fraud and black market dealings for diamonds going on, too. If I have a few hours on the flight, I'll put together a dossier that we could drop into the police's hands or something." 

"That would be the easiest way in," Eliot said. "Get the local authorities interested in them, wait until they're being arrested and pick Andrea up at the front gate." 

"Only it's never that easy, is it?" Hardison said. "I don't have actual proof, just my experience and extensive knowledge of the criminal mind. I can tell just by looking at the books that there's something hinky going on and so could most cops, but we'd need actual hard evidence if we want the police to start an in-depth investigation. Which is also something we should consider carefully," Hardison cautioned. "Right now, we're off the radar for most agencies and police forces, but we shouldn't be careless about working with the cops, even in a different country." 

"Besides," Parker said, "this grand opening is in ten days. Even if we find evidence, chances are the cops will double and triple check everything, take ages to get warrants and all that. It'll give the Bracks too much time to act. As soon as the cops stir, Bernhard will leave the country and join his brother overseas. They have business contacts all over the place, so they'll settle somewhere with fewer legal restrictions and just pick it up there. Amsterdam is one of the largest diamond markets in the world, but it's not the only one." 

"True," Eliot conceded. "And if the Bracks suspect Judy has something to do with alerting the cops, it could end badly for Andrea. We can't give them time to prepare. We can go in as potential buyers or investors."

"Nah," Parker said, smirking. "Let's keep this simple. I'm thinking a good, old-fashioned smash and grab." She nodded. "Yeah, that'll work."


	3. Phase Three: The Problem

Amsterdam in mid-December was cold and windy, but fortunately snow-free. Brack Diamonds had a storefront in the city that they had scoped out on the first day, but the majority of the business, including the large scale buying and selling, was done in a big building on the outskirts of town. 

The sun was already down by the time 5 pm rolled around, and Parker blended into the darkness as she ran alongside the high fence. Hardison and Eliot jogged along behind her, Hardison carrying his laptop and a few other gadgets. 

One of the floodlights that illuminated most of the company grounds was broken and Parker stopped right underneath it. 

Hardison opened his laptop. "Okay," he said. "Give me a minute and I'll switch off the fences." 

Parker impatiently bounced on the heels of her feet, her fingers itching to climb the fence. But she waited until Hardison gave the all-clear before she hooked her gloved fingers into the mesh and started to climb. 

"Everyone clear on the plan?" Parker asked when they were all safely over the fence. 

Eliot nodded. 

"We have thirty minutes until the reboot," Hardison warned. "If we're not out by then, we'll have to go through the front because this fence will be humming with fifty thousand volts again, and the automatic defenses will be on high alert after this outage." 

The other two nodded and all three of them walked through the shadows until they reached the building. There, they separated. Parker, using a blind spot in the surveillance, climbed up the side of the building to the third floor. Hardison went in through a side door and directly down into the basement where the only camera covered the records room but none of the utility rooms along the way. Eliot remained outside, waiting.

#

Hardison felt like whistling to himself. Breaking into this place was easier than taking candy from a baby. A broken light, some basic level hacking to take out the fence and an unguarded door leading into an uncovered area with a lock that even his Nana could've picked within seconds.

Placing his laptop on a free-standing, waist-high utility cupboard, Hardison rolled his shoulders and stretched his fingers. _Showtime._

All of the staircases were empty and dark. Apart from a vague outline of the staircase, there was nothing to see on the monitors. He didn't even have to record some of the footage and loop it - all he had to do was freeze the frames but let the clock on the bottom of the screen run on. 

"Okay, Eliot, you're clear to head up to the top floor," Hardison said, knowing Eliot's comm would pick it up.

"Going in now," Eliot replied. 

"Parker, what's your status? Did you attach the drive yet?" 

"Um," Parker said. After a few seconds, she added, "it's in." 

"Uh-huh." 

"Sorry," Parker said. "I got side-tracked for a minute. Brack has a really nice Hamilton TL 30X6. It's all shiny and new."

"Is it gonna be a problem?" Eliot asked, his voice sounding a little strained but not out of breath. 

"Pah." Parker snorted. "It's a composite safe with a 4-way bolt system and glass relockers. It would be a problem if I was a hack with a blowtorch. Luckily for us all, I'm a professional."

#

Eliot rolled his eyes as Parker and Hardison descended into petty squabbles over which of them was more professional. They were mid-argument when Eliot hit the sixth floor landing and interrupted them.

"Hardison, I'm on the top floor. Electronic combination lock."

Eliot took out Hardison's gadget and frowned, turning it this way and that way until he found the right way to attach it, watching with satisfaction as the display lit up. 

"Okay, just attach the--"

"Already did," Eliot interrupted. "Your gadget is doing... something." 

"Running through all the combinations and punching them in faster than any human ever could?" Hardison said smugly. "Yes, it is. And I invented it. Because I am a professional hacker." 

Parker made a wounded noise and Eliot sighed. Not this again. It was like working with a bunch of kindergartners sometimes. 

Hardison's gadget beeped, and a sequence of seven digits blinked on the display. Eliot memorized it just in case. 

"Your gadget's done," he said. "Did you take care of the cameras and the alarms?"

"One second," Hardison said. "Okay, go." 

Eliot pushed down the door handle and the door swung open. He detached Hardison's gadget and stuffed it in one of his leg pockets where it wouldn't get damaged or slow him down. The sixth floor hallways was narrow, but it reeked of money. Thick plush carpets, expensive cream-colored wallpaper, polished mahogany doors. 

The only light came from the green glow of the emergency exit sign right over his head, and Eliot quickly walked along the corridor and away from the light. They hadn't been able to find out which of the four apartment suites on this floor Andrea was held in. Eliot didn't have time to be delicate and pick the lock on every door, but he also couldn't just kick them in or the noise would alert the security guards.

Reaching into one of his pockets, Eliot pulled out a military grade set of binoculars, outfitted with night vision and high definition thermal imaging lenses. It wasn't an ideal solution, but it helped him pinpoint the right suite, vague orange-red shapes highlighting the silhouettes of two men standing on the other side of one of the doors. 

"I've got at least two goons inside, guarding the door," he whispered, knowing the comms would pick up his words even if he spoke near silently.

"There are no cameras inside the apartment suites, so I can't confirm that they're the only ones," Hardison said. "But I can tell you that I've disabled their radios and that nobody is close enough to hear a thing." 

Eliot shrugged. "Good enough for me." He secured his binoculars and then knocked on the door. Counting silently in his head to time his attack just right, put his hand flat on the door and waited until it started to open. The door opened inwards, and he waited two beats before he pushed in with one hard, forceful move. 

The guard who had been behind the door yelped and fell backwards, blood streaming from his nose. 

Eliot didn't hesitate. He pushed the door against the fallen guard's legs and stepped into the room. The second guard was more than a head taller than him, so Eliot didn't bother to punch him in the face. Instead, he focused his attack on the man's middle, reaching out a hand to undo his belt. 

Confused, the guard's counterattack was poorly executed and without much power behind it. Eliot dodged it easily, using the motion to slide the belt out the guard's belt loops. The gun holster that had been attached to the belt fell to the floor, the gun still secured inside. Before the guard could go for the gun or attack him again, Eliot rammed his shoulder into the guard's middle and slammed him into the wall. When the man's legs buckled and he started sliding downwards, Eliot jabbed out his elbow and watched him fall to the floor. 

Gripping the belt tightly so he could use it as a whip if he needed to, Eliot turned and checked on the first guard he'd taken down. The man was conscious and still bleeding. His eyes were unfocused and his hands aimlessly groped over the floor, like he couldn't really make sense of the fact that he was lying down. Eliot dropped the belt and stepped back. _Concussion_ , he concluded. _A bad one._ He didn't feel much sympathy though. 

The sounds of the fight hadn't brought any other guards to the door, so Eliot thought it was safe to assume there were only two. A quick check of the apartment however showed that Andrea also wasn't there. 

"She's not here!" Eliot growled, kicking at a no doubt expensive wooden coffee table. 

"What?" Parker asked. 

"She's not here," Eliot repeated. "Andrea isn't here." 

"Two goons guarding an empty apartment?"

"It's a five-room suite," Eliot said, "and all five rooms shows signs of occupation. Could be Andrea has a four-man team around her at all times. This is their home turf; if Andrea is elsewhere in the building, they wouldn't need a four-man escort. So two are with Andrea, wherever she is, and two stayed behind."

#

Parker let out a frustrated sigh. This was exactly the reason why Nate always had several back-up plans and planned for every contingency. People could be so unpredictable

"Well, I've got the digital copies and I've photographed everything in Brack's safe," Parker said, patting the zipped pocket containing the thumb drive and the slim, ultra high definition camera. "Hardison, can you find Andrea's location on the cameras?" 

When Hardison didn't answer, Parker frowned. Before she could say anything, Eliot sharply said, "Hardison!" 

"Yeah, yeah," Hardison said, and Parker felt her shoulder relax a little. "I'm here, man, no need to get snippy. Although..." 

"Although?" Parker questioned. 

"I have a bit of a situation here. The kind where I go uh-oh and then everyone panics," Hardison said. 

"What," Eliot asked flatly.

"Uh-oh!" Hardison said. 

"What's happening?" 

"Brack is here." 

"Brack? Wasn't he supposed to be on his way to Austria?" 

"Supposed to," Hardison pointed out. "But isn't. What are we gonna do?" 

"I'm done in here," Parker said. "Can you see Andrea anywhere?" 

"I, uh, I don't know. There are forty-two cameras and I can only look at four feeds at the same time. Plus, there are a lot of blind spots someone could pass through and-- oh shit!"

"Oh shit?" Parker repeated. "What's happening?" 

"Brack is taking the elevator up to the sixth floor," Hardison said, alarmed. "Eliot, you have to get out of there. The security guard downstairs is gonna notice if Brack doesn't show up on the camera feed." 

Parker quickly shuffled the papers back into the safe, arranging them the way they had been before she took them out. Over the comm, she could hear the sounds of Eliot jogging down the corridor and stepping back into the staircase. 

"Brack is gonna find the two guys I took out," Eliot said. "We have maybe thirty seconds before all hell breaks loose." 

"We can't grab Andrea if we don't know where she is," Hardison said. 

"We're gonna have to leave her," Parker said. 

"No," Eliot argued. "They're gonna know we were here, and they'll know we're here for Andrea. This could put her in jeopardy." 

"Being arrested isn't going to help her," Parker said. "We have to leave and come back later." 

"They'll step up security, fix any weak spots we could exploit and keep Andrea on a really short leash," Eliot said. "There's no guarantee we can get back in and get Andrea out." 

"We don't have outside help," Parker said, "and none of us speak Dutch. That makes conning our way out of prison kind of difficult. We leave and come back with a different plan," she said, her tone implying that the matter was closed for further arguments. 

Eliot made an annoyed sound, but kept quiet. He hated leaving people behind, but all of Parker's plans depended on at least one of them being free. If they were all captured or arrested, their options shrunk so far that a rescue would be next to impossible.

"We go out the way we came in, as fast as we can," Parker said. "Now." 

Her last word was nearly drowned out as an alarm started blaring. 

"Brack found the two guards in the suite," Hardison explained. "Eliot, the stairwell cameras are still out, but the alarm got security moving. You've got two guys headed up the stairs and at least six more making their way to the stairwell on different floors." 

"I can handle it," Eliot assured them.

Parker winced at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, but she was confident that it was Eliot's fist hitting someone's face rather than the other way around. She quickly pulled the window closed after her and started down the building's facade, the old brick providing enough handholds and ledges that she could free climb the three floors. 

"I'm gonna cut their access to the security feed and squelch their radios," Hardison said. "It won't help much, but it'll slow them down a little." 

Parker reached solid ground when Hardison announced that Eliot was on the second floor. "Hardison," she said, "pack it up and get out here. Eliot's gonna come in trailing guards, so we want to be on the move as soon as he gets here." 

"I'm moving," Hardison said a few seconds later. "Eliot's got one more floor to go." 

Moments later, Hardison came running up the basement stairs, his open laptop in his hands. 

"Come on," Parker urged, gesturing for Hardison to pick up the pace. 

The door to the stairwell was around the corner. Parker and Hardison rounded the corner just as Eliot burst through the door, two guards on his tail. But the two guards weren't the problem. The seven other guards waiting for them a few feet away, all armed with machine guns, _were_. 

Eliot stumbled back, hands raised, until he was standing closer to Hardison and Parker. He turned, keeping both the guards and his teammates in his sight. Parker caught Eliot's eye, eyebrows raised. 

"Plan H," Parker breathed, quietly enough that only the comms they were wearing let Hardison and Eliot pick up on it.

Eliot nodded minutely, his expression grim. 

"Aw, man," Hardison muttered. "I hate plan H. I hate all the plans except A, F and L." 

Parker wasn't overly fond of plan H either, since it meant she'd have to leave her teammates behind, but it was better than all three of them being gunned down. Hardison with his long legs could outsprint her in the short run, but she was faster over distance and better trained. And she was the one carrying their only leverage, the evidence from Brack's safe, plus a little extra something she'd picked up mostly out of curiosity. 

Eliot slowly lowered his arms, taking a few steps towards the guards. Several of them raised their guns a little, pointing them at Eliot. 

Hardison used their focus on Eliot and started typing quickly. "On three," he whispered. 

Around them, Parker could hear a quiet, high-pitched whine, like the sound some tasers made when you readied the charge. 

"One," Hardison said. 

The whining sound intensified enough that some of the guard looked up. 

"Two," Hardison said, his finger hovering over the enter button. 

Parker shifted her weight, her knees slightly bent. 

"NOW!" Hardison shouted, hitting enter. 

Several of the guards started at Hardison's shout. The electrical whine shut off abruptly and all at once, the floodlights exploded in a shower of sparks. Not even a second later, the lights inside the building and on the surrounding properties shut off as well, leaving the area in complete darkness. 

Parker took off at a fast run. As she rounded the corner, she could hear the sounds of fighting behind her. None of the guards were stupid enough to use their guns in the dark, but it wouldn't be long until they found enough flashlights and overpowered Hardison and Eliot. 

She had four minutes until the fences re-electrified, unless Hardison's trick with the light had knocked out the entire electricity in the building and not just the lights. She couldn't take any chances though, so she climbed the fence as quickly as she could, dropping to the ground on the other side. So far none of the guards were following her, but it wouldn't take much until they realized one of the intruders was missing.

#

Nineteen minutes after their plan went fubar and she had to leave her partners behind, Parker stopped at a pay phone in the red light district. At quarter past six on a weekday, the streets were already bursting with party-hungry tourists. Nobody paid her any attention as she stepped into the phone booth.

The phone booth was wedged into a small alcove in front of a night club. It looked as disgusting as it smelled, and Parker vowed to burn her gloves once she was out of there, wishing she had a disinfectant spray or at least a bottle of hand sanitizer to pour over the receiver.

Brack's personal number was unlisted. Without Hardison, it would have taken much too long to find it, so Parker simply called the Brack Diamonds main office, asking to talk to Mr. Brack directly. Eliot and Hardison must have told him to expect her call because she was transferred to Brack's personal line without much fuss from the receptionist. 

"Mr. Brack," Parker said as soon as the line picked up. "Looks like you've got something of mine and I've got something of yours." 

"You're the one who stole my diamond," Brack said. "The blonde thief." 

Parker grinned, her hand lightly touching her side where the USB drive, the camera and the small diamond pouch rested in her inner pocket. "That's right," she confirmed. 

Brack hummed. "I suppose that you're going to propose a deal?" he asked.

"My partners, your diamond," Parker said, nodding even though Brack couldn't see her. "You don't hurt them, I won't alert the media to the fact that you're hawking synth diamonds as the real deal, with your showcase diamond as my proof." 

"You can't prove that diamond is fake," Brack said. 

Taking a gamble, Parker said, "I also have copies of everything else in that safe and everything on your computer." 

Brack's momentary silence was enough of an admission that Parker made the mental note to check those files as soon as she could.

"We can meet tomorrow at--"

Parker interrupted Brack with a laugh. "If you think I'm stupid enough to meet with you and your hired army in some dark back alley, then you're sadly mistaken. No, this is going to be nice and civilized. The Brack Diamonds gallery-and-shop opening is in three days. Put me on the invite list, and I'll hand-deliver your diamond." 

"I'll need the diamond before--"

"No, you don't," Parker said. "The diamond will be there in time for you to set everything up for the show, just like my guys will be there in their tuxes. I'll hand it over when I see my men in the crowd. You'll get a few minutes to verify I didn't pull a fast one on you and then you can proceed with the presentation. You present your diamond to the world while we walk out the front door."

Brack sighed. "Very well." He cleared his throat. "I believe I don't need to tell you what happens if my diamond is not there on time."

"I don't have to tell you which one of the major European news outlets I'll contact if anything happens to my guys," Parker said in the same serious tone of voice. 

There was a small pause, then Brack asked, "What name shall I put on the guest list?"

Parker grinned. "Mrs. Hope," she said, hanging up the phone.

Parker exited the phone booth, tugged off her gloves and threw them into a nearby trashcan. On foot, she started down the street, heading for her hotel. 

Halfway there, she took out her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts, stopping at the Qs. The phone rang and rang, and Parker was about to give up when someone picked up on the other end, out of breath and angry. 

"What?" 

Parker grinned. She had only worked with Quinn a handful of times, but he reminded her of Eliot in all the best ways. "Quinn," she said. "How soon can you be in Amsterdam? I have a job for you."

#

_Somtimes,_ Alec Hardison thought, _being in a team really sucks._ Like when he had to intentionally stay in a situation hazardous to his health in order for a teammate to escape and finish the job.

After Parker's escape, it took the guards a few minutes to find enough flashlights and men to cover him and Eliot. Eliot took the chance to bloody his knuckles a little while Hardison sacrificed his laptop by using it as a bat to pummel guards. One of the men that Eliot had beat up in Andrea's suite, a really tall guy, seemed to carry quite the grudge. Eventually though, more guards showed up, and he and Eliot were surrounded.

Hardison had been in many sticky situations over the years, but never had he faced so many guns and so much violence as he did after joining the team. Usually Eliot was right there to bail him out - only this time they weren't bailing. 

Tall Guy With A Grudge snarled something in Dutch and Hardison was at the same time glad and pissed off that he couldn't understand him. Pissed off because there was little doubt about the fact that he and Eliot had just been severely insulted, but glad because he liked comebacks specifically tailored to the insult, and not knowing what it was kind of took the wind out of his sails. Considering the fact that Tall Guy With A Grudge and twenty of his closest friends and coworkers were holding guns on them, back talk probably not a smart idea anyway.

Brack appeared in the courtyard, flanked by two more security guards, power-walking towards them faster than Hardison would have suspected of someone in his late sixties. His eyebrows were drawn in an angry frown, and his nearly colorless gray eyes glinted dangerously in the low light. His neatly combed, steel gray hair and his impeccable suit only made him look more furious, not more composed.

"You let the other one escape," Brack accused Tall Guy With A Grudge. "The woman." 

"She took out the electricity," Tall Guy With A Grudge admitted reluctantly. 

Hardison wanted to protest - _he_ had overloaded the transformer down the block, not Parker - but Eliot was glaring at him like he knew what Hardison was thinking, so Hardison bit his tongue and kept quiet. 

Brack huffed in annoyance. "She stole the diamond," he said. "And you let her escape!" 

_Oh yeah,_ Hardison thought. _That's my girl. Stealing diamonds from the bad guys._ He would have raised his hand to Eliot for a high five, but he was too scared of making any sudden movements.

Tall Guy With A Grudge's mouth worked soundlessly for a minute, like he wasn't sure how to respond and keep his job at the same time. 

Brack made a disgusted sound and then turned toward Hardison and Eliot. "Your accomplice is making a deal. You'll be our guests until Saturday. Behave yourselves," he added, "and I won't have to give you back in pieces."

Somehow, Hardison had a feeling that when Brack said guests, he really meant prisoners. 

Brack turned and stalked off, stopping briefly to talk to Tall Guy With A Grudge. 

"Search them," Brack ordered. "Make sure they're not in a condition to escape, but don't damage them permanently - for now. And Pieter? If anything else goes wrong, I know who to blame." 

Tall Guy With A Grudge - whose real name was apparently Pieter - nodded and turned towards them with a mean smirk on his lips. 

Hardison gulped and prepared himself for some serious pain.


	4. Phase Four: The Solution

Quinn blinked. "That's your plan?" he asked. "Your whole plan?" 

Parker nodded.

"How did you even come up with this?" 

"Saw it on TV once." Parker shrugged. "It looked like fun."   
"By God, Spencer was right. There _is_ something wrong with you!" Quinn exclaimed, giving Parker an incredulous look. "But," he amended, facing Parker's unimpressed stare head-on, "I've got to admit, I kinda like it." 

Parker smirked. "I thought you might." 

"Well," Quinn said, "if we want to be ready for tonight, I have some prep work to do. Is Hardison going to kill me if I touch his computer? Or, more importantly, is he going to reprogram all of my TV channels, send a fake death certificate to my bank and subscribe to a bunch of services that I don't need, want or care to be embarrassed by when I inevitably have to call someone to cancel them again?" 

"He might want to," Parker admitted, "but you're gonna need it. Besides, he has like ten of these." 

"Who needs ten computers?" Quinn grumbled, rolling up the laptop cable to fit it in the pouch. "I have one, and I hardly ever use it." 

"You're not a hacker," Parker said. "And that's just what he packed for this trip. He once pulled a tablet from under the front seat in his van and was all, 'oh, so that's where I put this.' It's like Eliot carrying around his knives or you hiding a gun in your boot." 

"One gun," Quinn said. "Not ten." 

"One?" Parker challenged, eyebrows raised. 

"Fine, three," Quinn said. "Still more useful than a laptop." 

Parker gave Quinn a look that hopefully conveyed just how wrong she thought he was and silently handed him a toolbox. 

"Overalls?" 

"In the bathroom," Parker said. She waited impatiently as Quinn got changed and then left the hotel suite, calling "don't forget to rent a tux while you're out" after him. 

Parker sat down on the sofa and slumped down until she could stare up at the ceiling. With Quinn preparing the scene, there was absolutely nothing to do until she had to get ready for the opening show. She could go over her plan and back-up plans or get out the blueprints again, but she'd done both a hundred times over the last three days. 

_Waiting sucks_ , Parker decided. And it sucked even worse when there was nobody to wait _with_ her.

With a sigh, Parker sat up and reached across the table, pulling the blueprints closer. After all, there was no such thing as being too prepared.

#

The new Brack Diamonds gallery and jewelry store was in the historic city center, compromised of several tall, narrow buildings that had all been joined to form one large complex with several floors of art and historic jewelry on display, as well as secured glass cases for any jewelry items on sale.

The main event of the night, the live cutting of the largest of Brack's diamonds, was scheduled for eight o'clock. Quinn arrived at seven, slightly ahead of Parker. But then again, he had to secure his own invitation. 

Turning the collar of his coat up against the cold, Quinn seized up the arriving guests, trying to spot someone he could persuade to give up his invitation. It took seven minutes, but Quinn finally spotted a man that was roughly his size, with short, dirty blond hair. Instead of arriving in a taxi or with a car service, the man was walking along the canal, making him the perfect victim.

Quinn jogged across the street and intercepted the man. The threat of a gun was enough to pull the man into a dark side alley and Quinn didn't waste time with unnecessary talking. He would have just knocked the man out with a blow to the back of the head, but Parker had supplied him with chloroform which she informed him she always carried. He'd asked why and then regretted it instantly. 

The man slumped to the ground only moments after Quinn pressed the chloroform-soaked handkerchief to his face. Quinn was more of a hands-on kind of person, but he couldn't deny that it worked. 

Quinn stole the man's invitation and his wallet - not that he expected the guards to be checking IDs, but it paid to be prepared. Whistling slightly, he made his way across the street, but until he'd made sure his unfortunate victim was resting on a bed of collapsed cardboard boxes. He would need an Irish coffee and a warm blanket when he woke up, but he'd be fine. 

Nobody checked for IDs at the entrance. A brightly-smiling receptionist accepted his invitation and a bored-looking security guard waved him through a doorway that was framed by a pulled back heavy velvet curtain in blood red. Quinn stepped into a large room that spanned nearly the entire ground floor of the building. Directly inside, on either side of the doorway, stood two guards, looking much more aware than their counterpart on the other side of the red curtain. 

_It makes sense_ , Quinn mused. Brack wasn't concerned about people coming in. But he did want to stop several of them from leaving. Nodding randomly at people here and there to appear like he was part of the Amsterdam diamond scene and familiar with at least a handful of the other guest, Quinn made a quick circuit around the room. Eight guards in the main room alone meant that Brack was either expecting trouble or completely paranoid. Perhaps both. 

Quinn caught a glimpse of Parker as she strode through the doorway, her flowing black dress with diamond accents making a nice contrast to her light skin and the blood red backdrop of the curtain. 

"Go," Parker said over the comms. "Three minutes." 

"Got it," Quinn murmured, resisting the urge to rub at his ear. The ear buds weren't uncomfortable, but he was uncomfortable wearing one and having his every move and word transmitted to someone else. He pushed his discomfort aside and turned, heading for the men's room. 

Earlier in the day, decked out in working clothes and carrying a heavy toolbox, he'd joined a group of workers doing some last minute finishing work. Instead of cutting and fixing end strips to hide the edges of the parquet in the main room, he'd hidden Hardison's laptop in the last stall of the men's room.

Laptop bag slung over his shoulder, Quinn exited the men's room and turned left. Around the corner and fourteen feet ahead was a small utility closet decked out with cleaning utensils, a mop and some office supplies. He placed the laptop on the nearest shelf and waited.

#

The main floor of the gallery-slash-jewelry store was dominated by the large crystalline chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the gleaming white marble floors. The walls were hung with paintings from a mixture of epochs, tastefully put into the spotlight by subtly hidden light fixtures. Interspersed around the room were glass display cases, showcasing Brack's jewelry.

Parker didn't bother with the jewels. The papers from Brack's safe she'd photographed, together with the files on the USB drive, proved what Hardison had suspected and Parker hadn't quite believed: Brack had found a new way of synthesizing diamonds using a mixture of pressure, temperature and chemical reactions that made it virtually impossible to prove the diamond was fake. 

The Brack Brothers owned a diamond mine in Tanzania that had supposedly run dry - until they started bringing up diamonds again about a year ago. It's wasn't too hard to connect the dots: one Brack brother produced fake diamonds that the brothers pretended to import from their mine in Africa, while the other brother had the stones cut and then sold the diamonds in his shop as natural gem stones. 

Unlike Parker had suspected, this was not a small side business or a way to make a bit of extra money on some unsuspecting tourists. This was grand scale fraud. She was almost impressed. Or at least she would have been, had Brack not kidnapped an innocent woman and taken Hardison and Eliot hostage. 

Brack stood near the other end of the room, close to the doors leading to the staircase and the back of the building. Parker strode across the room, catching a glimpse of Quinn disappearing towards the restrooms. 

"Mrs. Hope," Brack said when Parker came to a stop in front of him. "How lovely to see you could make it." 

"No games," Parker demanded. "Where are my men?" 

Brack raised his eyebrows. "Where is my diamond?" 

With a sigh, Parker reached up, loosening the clip that was holding her hair up. As her blonde locks fell down to her shoulders, Parker turned the clip around and took out the diamond. Uncut as it was, it didn't look like much. 

Brack held out his hand in a silent request. 

Parker kept the diamond in her fist and stared at him. 

With a sigh, Brack looked to the side and nodded. 

Following Brack's line of sight, Parker watched a tall guard disappear through the staircase door and reappear a moment later with four other guards and Hardison and Eliot, both wearing rented tuxedos. The fancy clothing didn't distract Parker for more than a second though.

Hardison stood with his hand curled around Eliot's upper arm, glaring at the five guards that formed a loose semi-circle around them. Eliot was hunched over, his free arm wrapped around his midriff. It looked like he couldn't keep himself upright without Hardison's support.

Parker felt a cold fury in her bones. She hoped that at least part of Eliot's posture was simply acting, both because they could use his fist and because she hated to see him hurt. But even if it wasn't all an act, she'd seen Eliot take out three guys with two broken ribs, a cracked collarbone and a concussion. He could handle it.

"My diamond," Brack reminded her.

"Call off your men first."

Brack impatiently nodded to his guards and the men pulled back, stepping out of Hardison and Eliot's way. 

Parker caught first Hardison's eye, then Eliot's. With a determined nod, she waved them towards the exit. She waited until they were almost at the door before she dropped the diamond into Brack's hand. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Parker saw a set of guards follow Hardison and Eliot out of the room. When she turned back to Brack to complain about him breaking the deal, Brack slipped his hand back out of the pocket where he'd stashed the diamond and smirked at her. Then his gaze wandered higher and Parker felt someone step up close behind her. 

"You didn't really think I'd let you walk out of here after what you did?" Brack asked, keeping his voice as calm and pleasant as it had been all evening. 

A meaty hand clamped down on her shoulder and Parker glared at Brack, letting the guard walk her through the door and up the stairs.

#

"Now what?" Hardison whispered, pulling Eliot backwards, away from the guards that were following them.

"Plan H," Eliot reminded him. He hissed in pain when Hardison took an unexpected turn and Eliot missed his step, stumbling into Hardison's side. It was all the excuse the guards needed. Under the guise of wanting to help, they herded Eliot and Hardison towards the back of the building. Several more guards quickly joined them. 

"I'm getting a real deja vu feeling here," Hardison muttered, watching as they were yet again circled by Brack's guard. "It's not a happy feeling." 

"Shut up, Hardison," Eliot growled. He shook off Hardison's arm and curled his fists. Nine against two - when one of the two was injured and the other was Hardison - wasn't exactly fair, but he'd faced worse odds. Parker liked to make things up on the fly, and her plans were more than a little crazy sometimes, but she wouldn't have come here with the diamond if she didn't have a plan. All he had to do was hold out until Parker's plan unfolded. 

As it turned out, Eliot didn't have to wait long. The fight had barely started - he kicked the first attacker in the knee before letting Hardison knock him over while he was off-balance - when an unassuming door to their side opened. Suddenly, Hardison was gone from Eliot's side and Quinn took his place, a mean smirk on his face. 

Quinn threw himself into the fight, running straight into the group of guards and using his momentum to ram one of the guards against the wall hard enough to make him gasp for air. Quinn didn't stop to check on his opponents or regroup. He threw himself against the next guard, delivering a powerful punch to the jaw that spun the man around and into the guard next to him. Before that guard could recover from having his coworker stumble into him, Quinn was right there with an elbow to the man's solar plexus. 

Eliot drew back, letting Quinn take out the heavy hitters. He made sure the guys Quinn put down stayed down, at least until they could clear out. One of them was still quite lively, attempting a jab at Eliot's injured ribs. Eliot evaded him, but the movement jarred his upper body and sent needle-sharp pain through his body. Angry, Eliot executed a combination of punches that left the guard with a bloody and broken nose and Eliot with bruised knuckles.

"Where's Hardison?" Eliot asked when the last guard fell to the ground, unconscious. 

"Closet," Quinn said dryly, pointing to the nearest door. 

Eliot snorted. "Great." He pushed himself off the wall - when had he gripped the wall to keep himself upright? His ribs weren't _that_ bad! - and took two unsteady steps down the hall. "Well, why don't you stay here and I'll--"

"Where do you think you're going?" Quinn asked, stepping into Eliot's way. 

"Parker--" Eliot started, but Quinn simply shook his head. 

"I'll handle Parker," he said. "You babysit the geek. You wouldn't want to leave him here alone, would you?" he added after a short pause, handing Eliot a small pouch with two sets of ear buds in it.

Eliot huffed. "Unfair," he said. 

"Broken ribs," Quinn countered, walking a few paces backwards so he could continue to grin at Eliot's glowering expression before he turned and took off a jog. 

"Bruised," Eliot muttered, speaking to no one in particular. "They're just bruised."

#

Andrea looked a lot like the picture Judy had brought in with her, but she was paler and thinner in person. She wasn't malnourished or visibly hurt, but she clearly wasn't okay either. She wore a knee-length forest green dress with long sleeves, and her make-up was painstakingly applied, but that did little to nothing to hide her exhaustion.

Brack dropped the diamond into Andrea's hands and stepped back, watching as Andrea pulled out a loupe and inspected the diamond. 

"Hey!" Parker said, struggling against the man holding her. "You're bruising my arms. You're hurting me!" 

"Oh, Pieter will do much worse if you don't shut up," Brack said. "In fact, he will do much worse no matter what you say." 

"I thought we had a deal!" Parker said, glaring daggers at Brack." You let my men and me go and I give you back your synthetic diamond! I held up my part - I gave you the diamond!" 

"Ah, but what about the papers you stole?" 

"You mean the papers proving that this diamond you're going to sell tonight is a synthetic diamond?" Parker scoffed. "Insurance. Besides, on the phone you only said you wanted the diamond. Now let me go!" 

"Is it the diamond?" Brack asked. 

Andrea nodded, putting down the magnifying loupe. "It is."

"Good," Brack said, nodding to himself. "Very good indeed." He shot Parker a faux sympathetic look. "Sadly, my dear, your two accomplices have already been taken care of by my men. Whatever papers you have prove nothing. You're a thief! Who would believe a thief?" Brack smiled thinly. "Of course, that means we don't need you anymore." He nodded to the man behind Parker. "Pieter?"

Before Parker could move, the guard grabbed her more roughly, laying one of his arms across her collarbones from behind while gripping her upper arm with his other hand. Parker struggled, trying to get away, but it was useless. He was too strong.

"Prepare everything for the live cutting," Brack said to Andrea. "We start in five minutes." 

Andrea let out a breath, her hands shaking as she set up her machine. She shot Parker a look so full of misery and guilt that Parker wanted to tell her it was okay. It was all part of the plan.

"Hey!" Parker shouted. "What, so now you're just gonna kill me? Why? You got what you wanted!" Parker strained against Pieter's hold, but his grip on her only tightened uncomfortably, to the point where Parker knew she'd have lots of bruises - if she survived the night. 

"You got the diamond, you can cut it and sell it as a natural one - with the new synthesizing process you developed, no one will know! You don't need to kill me," she pleaded.

" _Au contraire_ , my dear," Brack said. "You already stole from me once, I'm not having you do it again. Pieter, take her outside and dispose of her. Make sure her body and that of her companions are never found."

" _Nice,_ " Hardison suddenly said over the comms. "Really nice, this setup for the live cutting Brack had planned for the night. Too bad that his really great equipment has been recording _and_ transmitting for like four minutes. We got the whole gory thing on tape and on its way to the police right now, plus about a hundred rich folks getting all excited on the main floor. Time to quit this party, Parker. Quinn, get her out of there."

Parker grinned. "Or," she said, "we could just wait for the police to get here and arrest you." 

Brack frowned, thrown off by her sudden lack of fear. "Police?"

"What, did you _really_ think I was just going to let you get away with kidnapping, murder and fraud... I could go on, but I'm pretty sure that's more than enough." Parker nodded to the video camera set up to record the cutting process. A little red light blinked at them, indicating that the camera was running.

Brack's eyes widened. "What? What's going on?"

In the distance, the sound of sirens picked up, getting louder by the second. Brack blinked. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as he started to lose his composure. A series of thumps and yells from the other side of the door sent Brack staggering back. "Pieter, check what's going on," he ordered. "And bring the car around." 

Pieter loosened his hold on Parker and stepped towards the door. He had just reached it when the door flew inwards, bouncing off the wall and back. Quinn burst into the room, his hair disheveled and his tie askew, grabbed the edge of the door on its backswing and kicked Pieter in the chest with both feet, sending Pieter crashing into the table where Andrea had set up her cutting equipment. 

Andrea let out a startled noise and flinched away. Parker let Quinn deal with Brack and rushed to Andrea's side. 

"Andrea! Hi!" Parker said brightly. "I'm Parker. Don't worry, you're safe now. Your wife hired me and my team to get you home." 

Behind her, Quinn pushed Brack into a chair and pulled out a couple of cable ties. 

"Yeah, don't worry about that," Parker said. "We're just making sure he doesn't leave until the police get here." 

"Speaking of which," Hardison said in her ear. "ETA is just under two minutes. Book it, you two. Eliot and I are waiting at the staff entrance out back." 

"I-I don't know what to say," Andrea stammered. 

"It's okay. This is kinda what we do." Parker shot a quick glance at Quinn. He had Brack tied up and Pieter knocked out. Time to leave. 

She turned back to Andrea. "The police will be here any minute. It's really better if my team isn't officially involved in this, so we're gonna leave you here. But don't worry - we'll stick around, make sure you're okay. After you give your statement to the police, tell them you want to go home. We'll meet you at the airport tomorrow morning, and you'll be home by Christmas."

"I don't even know how to--" Andrea broke off, wiping away a few tears. "Thank you. So much." 

Parker smiled and reached under the strap of her dress, pulling out the USB drive she'd secured there earlier. "Here, give this to the cops. It's all the evidence you need to back up your story. You might not even have to come back to testify in court - this should be all they need."

"Really, thank you so much!"

"Parker! Come on!" Quinn said urgently, waving at her from the doorway. "Hate to break up the party, but the cops just pulled up."

"Okay, I'm coming," Parker said. "Oh, and Andrea? Call your wife - she's been really worried about you." 

Parker hurried out the door after Quinn, Andrea calling another thank you after them.

#

The December cold was biting after the warmth of the Brack Diamond gallery-slash-jewelry store. Hardison didn't even feel the cold as they strolled past the police cars blocking half the street.

He and Parker were walking arm in arm, both of them shivering slightly. But for the first time in days, Hardison felt like he's able to breathe properly. Eliot got the worst of the beating that Brack's guards dealt out in an effort to make sure they were no shape to escape, but Hardison could feel the uncomfortable tightness of his skin where the blood had pooled into dark bruises. 

Quinn had his arm slung around Eliot to help him stay upright. If anyone looked closely, they might mistake the four for slightly drunk (or in Eliot's case, very drunk) partygoers. Nobody paid them any mind, however, and soon they'd flagged down a taxi to take them back to their hotel. If there was one thing Hardison was looking forward to, it was sleeping in a real bed and not on a hard floor with paper-thin, scratchy carpeting that smelled like cheap glue. 

"Well," Parker said in the elevator, hitting the button for the penthouse suite. "That went well." 

"Really?" Eliot grumbled. " _Really?_ " 

"Hang on, Eliot. I got a question first." Hardison gave Parker a searching look. "Brack's diamond was in the safe. You _stole_ that diamond. Did you know--was that--did you plan that? Was that part of the plan all along?"

Parker shrugged. "Sort of. I didn't know for sure that the diamond would be in the safe, but it was a possibility. As soon as I saw it, I knew it could come in handy. Either as a distraction from the Andrea thing or as leverage if something went wrong."

"No first plan survives enemy contact," Eliot said. "Good thinking."

Parker beamed at him.

"Nuh--nuh-uh," Hardison said, wagging his index finger back and forth. "No. This is not a good thing. Don't approve of plans like that. We need to seriously reconsider our backup plans, people. I do not approve of Plan H. Ever. Or Plan M. Especially not Plan M. No plans where I get beaten or used as bait or taken hostage. I didn't like being a hostage. Motion to have Plan H struck from all records, never to be used again."

Parker and Eliot exchanged a glance, but before Hardison could start off another tirade, the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT:** This is where you have to make a decision! You can: 
> 
> \- go to chapter five and read the Eliot/Quinn version of this story OR  
> \- you can skip chapter five and go straight to chapter six for the Hardison/Parker/Eliot version of this story. 
> 
> Both chapters feature explicit sexual content - the Eliot/Quinn chapter is a first time story, the OT3 story is an established relationship story. Feel free to read both versions if you want, but please keep in mind that the chapters are portraying two different scenarios of how the night could have ended. They do NOT mean that Eliot is jumping from one bed to the next. 
> 
> Alternatively, you could skip both chapters and continue with the epilogue to enjoy this an a gen story.


	5. Phase Five A: The Duo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: This is the Eliot/Quinn version of this story. If you want to read the Hardison/Parker/Eliot OT3 version, skip this chapter and continue with chapter six. Alternatively, go directly to the epilogue for a gen reading of this story.

"It is good to be home," Hardison said with a content sigh. He shrugged. "Well, back here anyway." 

"Our flight is tomorrow," Parker said. "But right now I don't care. I just want to sleep. I really need a good night's rest." 

Parker took off through the suite's sitting room and opened one of the doors. Hardison hurried after her. 

" _You_ need to rest?" Hardison repeated. "No, okay? Let me tell you something: _I_ need to rest. You've had a cushy bed and a nice, warm blanket the last three days. Do you know what I had? A scratchy, smelly carpet and Eliot. That's it! Do you know how--"

The rest of Hardison's argument was cut off by the door closing, and Quinn didn't bother to hide his relieved sigh. Hardison and Parker were brilliant, but absolutely exhausting to be around. They were so full of energy that it made Quinn feel old sometimes. 

Eliot, still leaning on Quinn, asked, "Know the way to my room?" 

Quinn snorted. "Yeah. In fact, I think I've been sleeping in your bed these last few days." He grinned and turned his head to look at Eliot and found Eliot doing the same. Their faces were close enough that a minute change of position would bring them into contact. 

They were both a little disheveled, and Eliot was breathing somewhat shallowly, but that undercurrent of attraction and danger that was always running between them when their eyes met was as strong as ever. 

"Well," Eliot said after a moment of silence. "No reason to change that now." 

Quinn nodded slowly, feeling out the unspoken invitation implied in Eliot's words. He adjusted his grip on Eliot's waist before heading towards the other bedroom in the suite. "Probably couldn't get a decent room at this time of night anyway," he said. 

Eliot grinned, and Quinn could feel some of the tension leave his body. 

The room was neat and tidy. Neither of them liked to spread out in spaces that weren't their own. Their bags stayed packed, positioned so that they could be grabbed on the way out, with nothing important ever left behind. It made navigating the room a lot easier, too, even though the penthouse suite was by no means small - Eliot and Quinn could walk side by side and not touch any furniture on the way into the room. 

Eliot leaned against the dresser, watching as Quinn took off his tie and suit jacket, silently enjoying the view of the tight white shirt against Quinn's strong back, muscles flexing just out of sight. 

Eliot let Quinn have the first shower. He drew the line at sharing a shower. That seemed somehow too much even though they'd already tacitly agreed to share a bed. Letting someone close while you slept - voluntarily - was about as intimate as it got for a hitter anyway. 

Eliot didn't trust many people unconditionally, but he trusted some people more than others. Quinn had the dubious honor to be on the second list, and until they were permanently on the same side, Eliot couldn't trust Quinn unconditionally. 

The same was true for Quinn, of course. Eliot didn't for one second think that Quinn let his guard down completely around him, that he trusted Eliot with everything. They were hitters - they were just not wired that way. 

For tonight, though, they were on the same page. For tonight, Eliot could accept that Quinn, his hair wet and hanging down loosely, helped him get out of his shirt the same way Hardison had helped him into it earlier, without judgment or any sort of expectation. Their thoughts ran along the same line: they would clean up, release some of that tension that was always brewing between them - but in a way that was a lot more fun than a fistfight - and then sleep. 

Quinn's hair was dripping water onto his bare shoulders and the thick carpet. He used a hand to push it out of his face, spraying Eliot with a few drops of water. 

"Need help with the pants?" 

"I can manage," Eliot said, heading into the bathroom. He left the door open to clear out some of the steam left over from Quinn's shower. The suit pants were ill-fitting, a little bit too long and loose, but it worked in Eliot's favor. All he had to do was pop the button and they slid to the ground without a problem, pooling at his feet. He toed off his shoes and kicked everything, shoes and suit pants, to the side. 

"Hey," Quinn called from the bedroom, "are you hungry?" 

Eliot's stomach rumbled in reply, and Quinn laughed. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Quinn said. "Take your time in the shower; I'll be back with food in a bit!"

Eliot didn't bother to reply, wincing when bending down to slide his underwear off sent sharp flashes of pain through his torso. Three days wasn't the longest he'd ever had to wear the same pair of boxer briefs, but it was disgusting nonetheless. 

With a sigh of relief, Eliot stepped into the shower and turned the water on hot.

#

No matter where you were in the world, if it was a large enough city, there was a McDonald's somewhere. You just had to find it.

Quinn had an amazing sense of direction. Thankfully, he also had a smartphone. Within seconds, he found out that the nearest fast food restaurant was less than a kilometer away. 

When Quinn got back to the hotel, carrying a large order of fries and a couple of burgers in his bag, Eliot was already out of the shower, his hair still shining wetly but already drying. Quinn dropped the bag on the bed and shrugged out of his jacket, but his eyes were drawn back to Eliot within seconds. 

A few drops of water were clinging to Eliot's bare chest. The pull of gravity got too much and several drops slid down the middle of Eliot's chest, hitting the towel he'd slung around his middle. Eliot smirked when Quinn's eyes hungrily followed the line of the water drops. He gripped the edge of the towel, his smirk widening when Quinn subconsciously licked his lips. 

Eliot's stomach ruined the moment with a perfectly timed rumble, and Quinn laughed, gesturing to the brown paper bag on the bed beside Eliot. 

"Burgers and fries," Quinn said. "Cardboard burgers and too-cold fries, probably, but it's the closest thing to food that tastes like home that I could find. The menu at this place is full of stuff I can't pronounce, and the kitchen's closed anyway." 

"It's fine," Eliot said, unwrapping a cheeseburger that was flat and unappealing-looking. It tasted like Quinn had predicted: like cardboard. But as much as he appreciated gourmet food, he could do with a couple of burgers that were so dry they had to have been on the keep-warm rack for hours. He started stuffing fries into his mouth to dilute the dryness of the burger a little.

"Aren't you eating anything?" he asked between bites.

Quinn scoffed. "Hey, man. My body is my temple." 

Eliot snorted.

Quinn grinned and shrugged. "I haven't been held hostage and played punching bag for someone for three days. I actually got dinner before Parker and I left on this little rescue mission." 

Eliot swallowed the last of his first burger and started on the second, squeezing some extra ketchup on it to make it less dry. He chewed slowly, studying Quinn. 

Quinn returned his gaze, looking down at himself when Eliot kept staring. "What?" 

"Thank you." 

Quinn shrugged again. 

"I don't know if Parker already handled your fee or--"

"Consider it a favor," Quinn interrupted. He took the burger from Eliot and took a bite, pulling a face at the too-dry texture. "One that your team can return at some point in the future." 

Generally, Eliot didn't like owing people. Never knowing when they'd call in their favor, what he'd have to do. It was like a black cloud of debt hanging over his head, ready to unleash a fierce rainstorm at any moment. The most inopportune moment possible, in most cases. 

But this was Quinn. He knew what he could and couldn't ask of the team. He wouldn't want to burn all bridges between them by asking something that went against their code. 

"All right," Eliot agreed. "A favor." 

"You done eating?" Quinn asked. 

Eliot looked down at the last of his fries, forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, I think so." 

"Good." Quinn took the bag of fries out of his hands and dropped it in the bag, letting it fall to the floor. He hesitated for a short moment - long enough for Eliot to step back or turn his head away - before he lowered his head and kissed Eliot. 

Eliot slowly let his eyes drift shut, stepping a little closer so that their whole bodies touched, not just their lips. Quinn's hands settled on Eliot's sides, right on the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist. 

Quinn pressed a little closer and licked across Eliot's lips. Eliot answered the silent question by opening his mouth to let Quinn in, deepening the kiss until they were both breathing heavily. Quinn ran his hands over Eliot's skin, towards his stomach where he'd knotted the towel. With one quick move, the towel fell and Eliot gasped, the air feeling cool against his legs and private parts.

"Okay?" Quinn asked. 

Eliot nodded. He reached out and ran his hand down Quinn's chest, stopping every couple of inches to undo button after button. "You're a little overdressed, though." 

Quinn laughed. "Can't have that." He toed off his sneakers and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling down the zipper and then, fluidly, his jeans as well.

"No socks?" 

"Didn't bother." Quinn shrugged. He smirked a little. "Didn't think I'd be wearing them for long."

"But you took the time to dig out fresh underwear?" Eliot said, pulling on the elastic of Quinn's boxer briefs before letting it snap back against his stomach.

"Jeans chafe," Quinn said. "So, is this enough small talk for you yet, or do we need to talk about the weather next?" 

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he growled. 

"Is this the part where I say 'make me'?" Quinn asked, eyebrows raised. 

"No," Eliot said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "This is the part where you get naked and join me on this bed." 

Quinn didn't waste more time with talking. He pushed his underwear down and - with a quick detour to his duffel bag to grab some supplies - joined Eliot on the bed. 

Eliot sank down onto his back, and Quinn rolled over until he was on his side next to Eliot, his hand resting on Eliot's stomach. He tilted his head up and then stopped a hair's breadth from touching Eliot's lips. 

"Okay?" he asked. 

Eliot nudged Quinn's side with his hand. "Are you gonna keep asking me that?" 

"Are you gonna keep hiding how much your ribs hurt?" 

"It's fine," Eliot said, not quite meeting Quinn's eyes. "I can deal with a little pain." 

"Doesn't mean you should have to," Quinn said. "We can--"

"No," Eliot protested quickly. "I want to." 

Quinn pursed his lips. "I wasn't going to say stop. All I wanted to suggest was that you should take it easy. Let me do all the work." 

" _All_ the work?" Eliot asked. 

"Well, most of it," Quinn said. He let his hand drift lower, trailing his fingers over Eliot's semi-hard cock. "I'm gonna need some participation from you in this general area though."

Eliot let out a content sigh as Quinn started to fondle him, using his fingers to tease Eliot to full hardness. He pressed a kiss to Quinn's cheek and then tilted his head a little more, catching Quinn's earlobe between his lips. 

Quinn made an encouraging sound and rewarded Eliot by spreading his efforts out a little, skimming his fingers over Eliot's balls and down to the inside of his thighs. Eliot instinctively spread his legs a little more, and Quinn obliged, following the silent invitation to explore a little more. 

"No need to keep quiet," Quinn said. "Parker and Hardison aren't gonna care. Pretty sure they're busy themselves." 

"'m not a loud person," Eliot said. "Doesn't mean I don't appreciate what you're doing. But I am feeling really relaxed right now, so whatever you've got planned as tonight's main act, we should probably get to it before I fall asleep." 

Quinn smirked. "Oh, you're not gonna fall asleep. Right after we're done, probably, but not before then." 

"Oh, really?" Eliot asked, chin raised challengingly.

Quinn turned his head and captured Eliot's lips in a kiss, waiting only a split second before he deepened the kiss. Kissing Eliot - _really_ kissing him - felt like engaging in a sexually charged sparring match. Eliot gave as good as he got. He nipped at Quinn's lower lip in retaliation when Quinn clanked their teeth together a little too enthusiastically, and he didn't hesitate to meet Quinn's tongue with his own, pushing and stroking and caressing. When they eventually broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard. 

"Yes, really," Quinn said, but the snarky effect he was going for was ruined by his labored breathing. He grabbed the small shaving kit he'd gotten out of his bag earlier and opened it, pulling out a strip of condoms and a small tube of lubricant. 

"Don't tell me," Eliot said. "You were a boy scout?" 

"There wasn't a sexual preparedness badge as far as I remember," Quinn said, twisting one corner of his mouth up, "but I hate breaking the mood to go buy supplies." 

Eliot chuckled. "Okay, how are we gonna do this?" 

"Just like I said: you lie back and let me do the work," Quinn reminded him. "Hold this," he added, handing the condoms over to Eliot. He kept the lube for himself, popping the cap and squeezing a good dollop of the sticky wet lubricant onto his fingers. 

Kneeling on the bed beside Eliot, Quinn reached back and prepared himself, using his fingers to massage the skin around his hole and work some lubricant into the passage before dipping in a first finger.

Eliot watched from underneath hooded eyes as Quinn added a second finger, circling them inside his hole a few times before he started thrusting a little, pushing his ass back on his fingers. 

"Done already?" Eliot asked when Quinn sat up and wiped his fingers on the sheets, taking the condoms out of Eliot's hands. "If you're not prepared, it's gonna hurt." 

"I'm as prepared as I want to be," Quinn said, separating one condom from the others. "Trust me." 

Eliot looked at Quinn, considering. 

Quinn returned his gaze seriously, waiting.

Eliot nodded. "Okay." 

"Okay," Quinn said. He opened the condom wrapper and tossed it aside, rolling the condom down on Eliot's erection in one smooth, efficient move. 

Straddling Eliot's thighs, Quinn took a moment to squeeze some more lube out of the bottle, spreading it over the condom. He spread it a little more thoroughly than he usually would, just to see Eliot squirm under his fingers and hear him make quiet sounds of enjoyment. 

Lowering himself onto Eliot's cock hurt, even with the amount of lube they'd used. But Quinn welcomed the bite of the pain, the burn of stretching skin and muscles. He liked a bit of pain with his pleasure to make the experience sharper and more immediate. 

Eliot watched Quinn, his fingers absently ghosting over Quinn's knees. "You good?" he asked. 

Quinn nodded. "You?" 

"I'm feeling pretty damn good," Eliot said, pushing his hips up in a shallow, experimental thrust that had them both moaning. 

"Pretty damn good sounds about right," Quinn said. He started to roll his hips, raising himself up a little before sliding back down. Eliot, apparently not half as exhausted as he claimed to be, started meeting him halfway, pushing his hips up as Quinn sank back down. They quickly found a rhythm that worked for both of them.

Eliot couldn't comfortably reach Quinn's cock, lying flat on his back as he was, but Quinn had no intention of stopping to help prop Eliot up with a few pillows. Instead, he took matters into his own hands, using one hand for balance while he put the other on his cock, letting his erection glide through his loose fist. 

Quinn groaned and threw his head back. Eliot seemed to like the sight of him with his neck bared because Eliot's thrusts became a little more enthusiastic and uncoordinated. Eliot's fingers tightening on his knee made Quinn open his eyes and tilt his head down again. 

The sight of Eliot made Quinn moan out loud. His skin was flush from his shower and the exertion, his eyes were dark with passion and his hands were fisted in the sheets, barely holding on. 

"I'm close," Eliot muttered, letting out a gasp as Quinn rotated his hips a little, "real close." 

"Come on then," Quinn urged him on. "Just let it go, Eliot. Fill me up, pump me full of--"

Eliot cut him off with a loud groan, his hips bucking up wildly as his orgasm overtook him. Quinn grinned and rode it out, waiting until Eliot relaxed back into the soft mattress. 

"Feel better?" he asked. 

Eliot gave him a satisfied smile. "A lot, yeah," he replied, his gaze drifting down Quinn's chest and to his lap where Quinn was idly stroking his erection. "You need any help with that?" 

"I'm the one doing all the work tonight, remember?" Quinn said. "But I don't mind if you watch..." 

Quinn tightened his hold, squeezing his cock a little before taking it in a firm grip, stroking up and down with increasing speed. He raised his free hand up to his lips and sucked a couple of his fingers into his mouth to get them wet. Trailing a wet line down his neck and over his chest, Quinn circled one of his nipples, hissing a little at the sudden coldness. 

"Pinch it," Eliot said. His voice, low and gravelly, shot straight to Quinn's cock. Quinn flicked his thumb over the head of his cock and used his other hand to pinch his nipple. The hint of pain toppled him over the edge. He moaned and pushed his hips forward, his come splattering Eliot's chest and abdomen. 

Eliot patted his thigh. "Come here," he said. "I wanna kiss you." 

Quinn obliged, putting his hands on either side of Eliot's head before leaning down for a kiss. It wasn't as passionate and charged as their last kiss, but it was good on a whole other level. The comfortable, relaxed press of lips, the hint of tongue - this wordless conversation was something he could easily get used to. 

Eliot hummed and ran his hands over Quinn's flanks. The way Eliot's hands roamed and touched wherever he could reach told Quinn that Eliot was usually a lot more active in bed. 

He reluctantly pulled back from the kiss and reached between them to deal with the condom. "Give me a minute to clean up and get a washcloth or something." 

Eliot nodded, watching Quinn as he tossed the condom into the trash and then disappeared in the bathroom. Being watched nearly constantly by Eliot Spencer was unnerving. So many people in this business had a 'this is a scar that Spencer gave me' story and Quinn was no exception. But this situation was completely different. Being the focus of Eliot's attention was still somewhat unnerving, but in a sexy, exciting way. It was a lot more pleasant than any one of Eliot's usual stares, so hopefully, if Quinn played his cards right, he might get to enjoy it again. 

After cleaning himself up, he went back into the bedroom with a damp washcloth, leaving Eliot to wipe himself off while Quinn secured the door and pulled the blanket out from under Eliot. 

Eliot tossed the washcloth back into the bathroom where it landed with a wet smack. Quinn grinned and slid into bed beside Eliot, smiling when Eliot immediately reached out and put his hand on Quinn's thigh. This wasn't the start of round two, though, but more a touch for the sake of touching. It was refreshing and different from Quinn's usual partners. Two people with a boatload of trust issues and paranoid tendencies between them, and yet here they were, lying close enough to touch and exchange kisses and caresses. 

When Quinn's fingers bumped into a small piece of metal as he was stroking over Eliot's chest, he opened his eyes. Resting near his heart, a small silver pendant hung from a long chain around Eliot's neck. Quinn had registered the necklace before - as far as he could tell, Eliot always wore it - but he'd never paid much attention to it before. It was usually tucked into Eliot's shirt and the only thought Quinn had had about it before now was that it would probably not make an effective weapon to use against Eliot in a fight. 

"It's pretty," he said, brushing the pads of his fingers over the pendant. "What does it mean?" 

Eliot smiled softly, his gaze drifting towards the ceiling. He gently pulled the pendant out of Quinn's fingers. "That's not exactly a first date kind of question." 

"Ah," Quinn said. He raised his eyebrows. "Does that mean this was our first date?" 

Eliot laughed. "If you want," he said. 

Quinn hummed, raising his head from Eliot's chest to look at him. "Do I get a second date?" 

Eliot met his gaze, his face relaxed and open. "If you want," he repeated in the same kind of tone. 

Quinn leaned over and kissed Eliot again.

He definitely wanted.


	6. Phase Five B: The Trio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: This is the Hardison/Parker/Eliot version of this story. For the Eliot/Quinn version, you need to go back one chapter. For the gen version, skip both chapters five and six and continue with the epilogue.

"Well," Quinn said after Hardison, Parker and Eliot had entered the penthouse suite. "I've got another job lined up. I'm catching a late night flight to Belize in three hours." He gave them a nod. "See you around." 

With a lazy salute, Quinn reached for the elevator buttons. 

"What about payment?" Eliot asked. "Or did you take care of that already?" 

Quinn laughed. "I'll consider this one a favor - to be cashed in when I need it." 

"I offered to pay him in diamonds," Parker said innocently. "But for some reason he wouldn't take my word for it when I said they were definitely real diamonds," she added with a smirk.

Eliot snorted. " I don't blame ya, Quinn. You have our number, if you need to cash in that favor." 

Quinn nodded and pushed the button for the lobby, letting the elevator doors slide shut. 

"Now what?" Parker asked when Quinn was gone. 

"Bed," Eliot said at the same time that Hardison said, "Shower!" 

They looked at each other. 

"Shower," Eliot said. 

"Then bed," Hardison added. 

Parker headed into the bathroom, turning on the shower while Hardison helped Eliot into the bathroom and then backed out again to scrounge up some painkillers. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Hm?" Parker asked. She followed Eliot's eyes down to her upper arm where a large bruise was starting to develop. Pieter's fingers, made visible by the purple-black marks on her skin. "It's fine," she said, waving him off. "It's just a bruise." 

Eliot let his eyes travel down Parker's body, checking for more bruises, but her dress hid her legs and most of her torso. 

"Help me with the zipper," she asked, turning around. 

Eliot pushed Parker's hair to the side and found the zipper, pulling it down her back. 

"Starting without me?" Hardison asked from where he was leaning against the doorframe. 

"Maybe," Parker teased. She reached up to push her dress off her shoulder, letting the fabric pool at her feet. "Are you gonna catch up or just watch?" 

Hardison pursed his lips. "How about I help?" He took a few steps into the room and put the bottle of painkillers on the sink. Then he reached out and unhooked Parker's bra. 

"Thanks," she said, letting the strapless bra join the dress on the floor. She bent down to slide down her panties, wriggling her backside a little. 

Hardison chuckled and Eliot raised his eyebrows, used to Parker's antics. 

Hardison tugged off his clip-on bow tie and quickly unbuttoned his shirt. For the first time since he'd joined them in the bathroom, Eliot noticed that he had lost the jacket somewhere between the sitting room and the bathroom. Being observant, even when he was exhausted and in pain, was something that had saved his hide more than once. That he was missing something as obvious as a missing jacket meant that he was either really out of it, or that he really trusted Parker and Hardison. 

Either way, Eliot needed to sit down. He sank onto the closed toilet seat, shaking his head when Parker and Hardison looked at him with twin expressions of concern. "Go on, I'm fine. Just needed to sit down for a moment." 

Parker nodded while Hardison, who'd had a front row seat to everything that happened to Eliot over the last three days, kept eye contact with him, trying to make sure he wasn't lying to make it easier on them. Hardison was distracted, however, when Parker stepped closer to him and unbuttoned his pants, lingering a little longer than necessary on each button, stroking Hardison through his pants.

Parker leaned in and gently kissed Hardison's chest where a bruise was visible underneath his collar bone. She ghosted her fingers over his arms and his sides, making Hardison jerk back and yelp when she hit a ticklish spot. Grinning a little, Parker finished her inspection by carefully brushing her thumb over Hardison's cheek where one of Brack's goons had hit him with the butt of a gun. 

"I'll live," Hardison said when Parker let her arm fall back to her side. "Can you turn on the water?" 

Parker nodded and danced over to the large shower stall. It was easily large enough for five, with an assortment of complimentary shampoos, conditioners and soaps. Several jets promised a 180 degree shower experience - or so the suite's brochure said - and a low bench set into the wall and several subtle handholds made it safe to use for the handicapped. 

Hardison finished undressing while Parker adjusted the temperature. The quickly developing steam told Eliot that she'd turned it to the hotter setting that he liked - Hardison and Parker usually preferred a cooler temperature. 

Hardison handed him the bottle of painkillers, and Eliot took two, dry swallowing the bitter pills. He wouldn't be able to relax completely, not until they were all safely back in Portland, but with Hardison and Parker close by, Eliot could finally let go a little. After three days of hyper vigilance, pain and worry, he could relax. 

Leaning against Hardison, Eliot let Parker unbutton his shirt and pants, smiling when she tried the same trick she'd used on Hardison earlier, palming his cock through his pants. While Parker took care of his clothes, Hardison ran his hands over Eliot's arms and chest, partly to map out his injuries and partly just to touch. Hardison was more tactile than Eliot and Parker put together. Where the two of them would use casual touches to test the waters, Hardison went straight for the intimate kind of touch. Nothing inappropriate - at least not in public - but the kind of touch that left no doubt that they were more than friends.

The hot water had built up a lot of steam by the time that they stepped into the shower, and Eliot thankfully held his head into the spray. Now that his body had decided that the immediate danger had passed, it demanded rest, making him feel sleepy. The jolt of the hot water was enough to shake it off for now, but the longer he stayed under the hot spray, the more relaxed - and thus more tired - he would get. 

"Let's keep this short," he said, using both of his hands to brush his wet hair out of his face. "I'm exhausted." 

Parker and Hardison exchanged a look. 

"Sure," Hardison said. "Why don't you sit down here," he added, gently pushing Eliot towards the small bench, "and Parker and I take care of you?" 

Eliot nodded, glad that the tiled bench was already warmed up from the water. He tilted his head into the spray, letting water rush over him from three sides. 

Parker quickly wet her hair and picked one of the small bottles of shampoo, working up a small mountain of lather that slowly melted off her head and slid down her body, curving around her breasts and down her stomach in small clouds of white foam.

While Parker was washing her hair, Hardison soaped up a washcloth and gave himself a quick scrub before rinsing grabbing a fresh one. He gently tilted Eliot's head up and ran the soft washcloth over his face, washing away the stain of the last few days. Hardison moved on to his shoulders and back and Eliot leaned forward, kissing Parker's stomach. 

Parker finished rinsing her hair and turned her attention to Eliot's. It was almost back to the length it used to be in the early days, coming down to just above the shoulders. 

Eliot would never admit it, but he loved having his hair washed. For the longest time he didn't have anyone in his life that he would let close enough to try and now he had two people at once that he trusted unconditionally. While it still sent a frisson of _badwrongdangerous_ through him to sit with eyes closed as someone else touched his head and neck, the pleasure of Parker's fingertips massaging his scalp and working some of the tension out of his neck far outweighed any lingering fears he had. When Parker was done, he readily tilted his head back and bared his throat to her so she could rinse the shampoo out. 

When she was done, Eliot rubbed the water out of his eyes and looked up at her. Parker more than Hardison understood the kind of trust he was showing, placing himself into one vulnerable situation after the next for the benefit of their relationship. He'd seen her do the same, pushing her own lifelong habits aside. No matter how bitter and disappointing the past was, they were all trying to make the future a much more pleasant place. 

Hardison, kneeling in front of Eliot, watched them, absently running the washcloth up and down Eliot's calf. When Eliot and Parker kept staring at each other, Hardison ran the washcloth up between Eliot's legs. 

Eliot groaned and spread his legs a little wider, settling his back against the cool tiles. 

Hardison grinned and twisted his hand, using the soft cloth to stroke Eliot's cock. 

The low level of arousal burning in Eliot's gut since Parker took off her dress exploded and his cock rapidly filled and hardened. His stomach muscles clenched when Hardison added his second hand to the mix, using it to cup and fondle Eliot's balls, and Eliot tried to relax his muscles to keep the added tension from aggravating his ribs. The painkillers were just starting to work, and - together with the expert hand job - they would make sure he'd sleep far more than his customary 90 minutes. 

Parker finished washing up and nudged Eliot's arm, getting his attention before she started touching him. Instead of joining in Hardison's efforts, however, Parker put her fingertips at his temples. She pressed down gently but firmly, making small circles with her fingers, working across his forehead and towards the sides of his skull. 

Between Parker's relaxing massage and Hardison's more exciting massage, it didn't take long for Eliot to reach his climax. He sighed contently, squeezing Parker's thigh in thanks. She smiled down at him and then frowned at her hands. 

"My fingers are getting all wrinkly," she said with a small pout. 

Hardison rolled his eyes. "Let the man enjoy the afterglow for a second, okay, babe? The big guy who looked like he was definitely overcompensating for something needed nine friends to subdue Eliot. He deserves a minute to catch his breath." 

"Don't need a minute to catch my breath, Hardison," Eliot argued. 

"Oh no?" Hardison said. "Then enlighten me. What do you need?" 

"This," Eliot said, and before Hardison realized what was going to happen, Eliot leaned forward and caught Hardison's lips in a kiss, keeping it light and sweet, just like the hand job.

Hardison hummed in appreciation, tangling his hand in Eliot's hair as he pulled him closer and deepened the kiss.

Parker waited for a moment, then huffed and opened the glass shower door. "I'll be in bed, in case you two ever decide to join me," she said. 

Eliot and Hardison exchanged a look when they ended the kiss and chuckled. Parker was simply _adorable_ when she felt left out. Whenever Parker merely wanted to watch, she was just fine with it if Hardison and Eliot forgot everything around them. But as soon as they weren't paying her any attention when she wanted to be included, she got sad, snippy and petulant. 

"Let's go put her out of her misery," Eliot suggested. 

"Yeah," Hardison said around a yawn. "Bed sounds good." 

They dried off and caught up to Parker in the bedroom, watching as she arranged the pillows on the bed. 

"Did you build a pillow fort?" Hardison asked, taking in the multiple pillows all over the bed. 

Parker's mouth tightened and she shook her head. "You weren't here, so..." she trailed off, shrugging. 

Hardison bit his lip, looking contrite. "Aw, babe, come here!" 

He circled the bed and wrapped his arms around Parker, kissing the top of her head. Eliot followed a little more slowly and joined the hug when he reached his lovers. 

"I know we don't always sleep in the same bed, but this was different," Parker whispered. "I wasn't sleeping alone because I wanted to sleep alone, but because you couldn't be there. It sucked. The bed was too big, the room was too quiet and even having Quinn in the other room wasn't enough to stop myself feeling alone."

"You're not alone now," Eliot reminded her. 

Hardison nodded. "No more sleeping alone - not unless you want to," he promised. "Okay?" 

"Yeah. Okay." Parker nodded. "Can we sleep now?" 

Hardison yawned again. "Good idea," he said. He stepped back from the hug and got into the bed, rolling over until he was on the other side. 

Parker shot Eliot an expectant look. He glanced at Hardison, only to find him looking back, the same expression on his face. Eliot rolled his eyes and joined Hardison, settling down on his back in the middle of the bed. 

"You know I'm fine, right?" Eliot grumbled. 

"Hmm," Parker said, slipping in beside him. She raised his arm and put it over her shoulder, snuggling into his side. She carefully put her hand on his chest, mindful of his bruised ribs. 

"Sure, we know that," Hardison said from Eliot's other side. He rolled onto his side, snaking his arm under Eliot's head until he could brush his fingers over the top of Parker's head. 

Parker rubbed her cheek on Eliot's arm and grinned at Hardison across their lover's chest. 

Hardison put his free hand on Eliot's chest and linked his pinkie finger with Parker's. 

Parker sighed in contentment. "The bed finally feels right again. I hardly slept these last three nights." 

"It wasn't exactly comfortable for us either," Hardison said. 

"But at least you had each other," Parker pointed out. "I had no one." 

"You always have us," Eliot countered. "We're just not always right there." 

Parker hummed, mulling it over in her head. "Okay, yes. We always have each other." She pouted a little. "But I was still lonely. It didn't even feel good enough to masturbate, and that usually relaxes me no matter what." 

Hardison chuckled. "Babe, trust me, we weren't in the mood either."

Eliot smirked. "You seem to be in the mood now, though," he said, shifting his hips a little until they made contact with Hardison's erection.

Hardisom grinned. "Well, what can I say? We completed our job, we're all in one place - more or less - and we're all together. I gotta say, that kinds turns me on."

"Uh-huh," Eliot said. "Want us to do anything about it?" 

Hardison looked down at Eliot's chest where his hand rested, brushing his thumb over one of the vivid purple-red bruises. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think I want you to get some rest."

"I'm not an invalid, Hardison," Eliot said, voice gruff. "So I got a few bruised ribs and a couple o' bruises. Nothing I haven't had before."

"But it still hurts," Hardison argued. "I don't want to hurt you." 

"Actually, I was feeling surprisingly good until thirty seconds ago when some idiot decided he needed to start an argument!" 

"Boys," Parker cut in. "No fighting." She grinned when they both looked at her with similar expressions on their faces. "How about I do something about that?" she asked.

Hardison let his head drop down, his forehead bumping into Eliot's shoulder. "Honestly, I'm not sure I want to move. I'm not sure I _can_. I'm exhausted." He shrugged. "It'll go away on its own." 

Parker sighed. "Well, I want an orgasm. Eliot, help me out?" 

Eliot's smirk returned when Hardison raised his eyebrows and then his head, watching with his mouth open as Eliot turned his head towards Parker and said, "Sure thing, sweetheart. What do you need?" 

Parker rolled into his side, swinging one leg over Eliot's thighs. "Not much, really. I've been thinking about this since the shower, so all I really need..." she trailed off, pushing her hips forward so that her clit rubbed against Eliot's thigh. 

Parker sighed happily and Eliot inclined his head, lowering it enough so they could kiss. He pushed his arm down between Parker's body and the mattress, giving her a bit more support so she could tilt her pelvis and thrust a little more effectively. Parker moaned in appreciation and thrust her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss to the point where Eliot almost felt aroused again. But even if his mind was willing, his body was not. 

Hardison, feeling a lot less tired suddenly, started moving his hips, letting his erection rub against Eliot's side. 

Eliot didn't notice that Hardison reached over his chest to fondle one of Parker's breasts, rolling her nipple between his fingers. When Hardison pinched the nipple, bringing Parker over the edge, Eliot did notice. Parker gasped into his mouth and jerked against his side, her hips pushing against his thigh in a few uncoordinated thrusts as she came.

Hardison groaned softly at the sight and sped up his own thrusts, dropping an open-mouthed kiss on Eliot's shoulder. 

Eliot turned his head, struggling a little to free the arm trapped between him and Hardison. He couldn't do much to help unless he switched positions, but Parker's legs were still wrapped around his thigh and she'd rested her head on his shoulder. Eliot settled for closing his fist around Hardison's cock, letting Hardison do all the work. 

It didn't take long until Hardison's thrusts became erratic and he moaned, putting his own hand over Eliot's, tightening his hold just a little to bring himself to completion. His hips stuttered to a halt and he linked his own fingers with Eliot, leaning closer to exchange a few lazy, sleepy kisses. 

Parker was more prepared than Hardison or Eliot, handing them tissues so they could clean up. 

Hardison got up to drop the tissue in the trash, pulling the blanket over all three of them when he got back into bed. Hardison and Parker settled against Eliot's sides, careful not to jar his ribs. 

"I'm really glad you're back," Parker muttered sleepily, her eyes closed. "Don't leave me again." 

"We won't," Hardison promised. 

Eliot hummed in agreement, tightening his hold on his lovers. 

"Good," Parker murmured. "That's really good. Everything is good." 

Eliot closed his eyes and silently agreed.


	7. Phase Six: The Wrap-Up (Epilogue)

The brew pub was decked out in reds and greens, with twinkling lights strung along the ceiling and around the windows. Every table had a small Santa figure, and the doorway was hung with mistletoe. 

It was also technically closed to the public as the Christmas party for friends, family and employees was in full swing. 

Eliot sat at the bar, enjoying a steaming mug of hot chocolate, made from his mama's secret family recipe. Parker and Hardison had poked him and begged, but ultimately it was Hardison's threat of creating a special Christmas beer that did the trick and got Eliot into the kitchen. Hardison's regular beer experiments were off-putting enough, but adding nutmeg, cinnamon and star anise to beer was where Eliot drew the line. Bruised - but well-healing - ribs or not, he gladly made a whole pot of hot chocolate - if only to spare the guests and himself from the results of Hardison's eccentric beer creations. 

Parker stopped next to his barstool, setting her half-empty mug of hot chocolate down on the counter. 

Eliot eyed it suspiciously. It had to be her second or even third mug, and the hot chocolate was very sweet. Letting Parker consume massive amounts of sugar unchecked was tempting fate. Parker on a sugar high was a menace. She behaved like an unruly five-year-old - including the shouting, running around and talking non-stop. 

Eliot surreptitiously moved Parker's mug further down the counter and out of Parker's reach. "Hey," he said to distract her, "weren't you helping Hardison?" 

Parker shrugged, leaning against the bar between Eliot's barstool and the next. "He said I'm a lousy DJ and to go bother you." She discovered that her mug was out of reach, but instead of going after it, Parker simply grabbed Eliot's mug and drank a few sips. 

"Playing _Jingle Bells_ seventeen times was a bit much," Eliot commented. He took his mug out of Parker's hands before she could drink it all. "Don't drink this; it's mine. Go get your own," he grumbled. 

Parker's eyes flickered to her own mug. Before she could say anything, Eliot added, "You have chocolate on your mouth, right there." He pointed at Parker's face and described a rough circle with his finger. 

Parker made a face, but her tongue darted out. She licked along her lips and into the corners of her mouth. "Better?" she asked. 

"Yes." 

"Am I bothering you yet?" 

" _Yes!_ " 

Parker grinned. "Good. Hardison says that as long as you're annoyed with us, you still love us and won't go away." 

"Go away? Why would I go away?" 

Parker shrugged. "Nate and Sophie left. I mean, I know why and I know that they're still family, but it's just not the same." 

Eliot nodded. In a way, the team was better than ever before. He, Parker and Hardison had complementary skills, and they knew each other well enough not to need many words. Things were undeniably different without Nate and Sophie. With her background, it wasn't too surprising that Parker had some abandonment issues. Considering this last job had depended on her leaving him and Hardison behind without a guarantee that they'd be okay, it was understandable that Parker wanted to make sure they'd be around for a long time. 

"Parker, you know I'm not leaving. You and Hardison - and Nate and Sophie - you're my family." 

"But unlike us, you _have_ a real family! You have brothers and a sister and nephews and nieces," Parker said. "All Hardison and I have is this," she added, waving her arm around the brew pub. "Random people who don't even know what we really do. Them, and you."

Eliot huffed. "Sure, I got a sister and a brother and a sister-in-law, all with a couple of kids between them. But I was in Rwanda when my older brother had a work accident. I didn't make it back until two weeks after the funeral. I was in Siberia when my oldest nephew was born, and in Iran, South Africa and Monte Negro for my nieces' births. I wasn't there when my dad had a stroke or in the months after, during his recovery. Once I left home, I never looked back. By now, we're strangers who grew up together. Who happen to be related and keep in sporadic contact out of guilt, obligation and habit." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a little ambivalent about how much he was sharing. But if he couldn't trust the two people closest to him, then who could he trust? 

"If I'd been shot a little lower in Korea or bled out in the Ukraine, none of them would ever know. I'd just stop showing up." Eliot nudged Parker's arm, bringing her attention back to him. She'd been listening, he knew that, but she wasn't any more comfortably with emotions than he was. But this was important. "They might be my blood family, but they don't know who I am, what I do or where I've been. But for the last five - almost six - years, you and Hardison have been there with me, every step of the way. Even when I didn't want you there. _That_ is what I call family." 

Parker stared at him for a moment, her eyes serious and suspiciously bright. The next moment, Eliot had an armful of Parker, her hair tickling his nose and her arms squeezing a little too tightly to be comfortable. He squirmed a little, trying to get Parker's vice-like grip without hurting her - physically or emotionally - but Parker didn't need more prompting to step back. 

"Crap, your ribs! I'm sorry," she said, pulling an exaggeratedly contrite face. "But thanks. For what you said." She grinned. "Especially since I know talking about your feelings makes you break out in hives." 

"Not as much as you on a sugar high," Eliot muttered. Louder, he added, "You deserved to know, I guess."

Parker smiled, but thankfully didn't try to hug him again. Eliot couldn't help but smile back. 

Hardison chose that moment to interrupt. 

"All sorted out?" he asked, leaning on the back of Eliot's bar stool. 

"Yup," Parker said. Her hand sneaked towards Eliot's hot chocolate mug again. 

Eliot decided to ignore it - this time. Instead, he turned to Hardison. "And what about you?" he asked. "Did you finally give up and just put on a best Christmas hits mix?" 

Hardison made a face. "Very funny, Eliot. Really, I'm dyin'. But no. I did put on a Christmas playlist, but only because Judy and Andrea just walked in." He nodded towards the door. 

Andrea and Judy were hesitating just inside the doorway, shooting uncertain glances at the assembled guests, which were really just people from the neighborhood, employees and a few regulars, plus a handful of people who'd wandered in without noticing the 'closed for a private function' sign and joined in the merriment. 

"Looks like they want to talk to us," Eliot said. "Let's go." 

Andrea and Judy both looked like different people. They were both smiling and relaxed, Judy in a green Christmas sweater and Andrea in a cheerful red dress. They both wore small reindeer charms around their necks, the blinking red stub at the center letting everyone know that this was not just any old reindeer. 

Parker noticed the necklaces and ducked behind the bar, coming back up with her reindeer antler headband on top of her head. She grinned. "Look, now we match!" 

"I guess we do," Andrea said with a laugh. "We just wanted to stop by and thank you _again_. I can hardly believe that I'm here." 

Andrea teared up a little, and Eliot could practically see Parker panic. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly and she froze. She was much better at dealing with emotional clients than she had been, but she'd never be a natural like Sophie. Still, Eliot was proud when Parker gently guided Andrea to the bar and poured her a mug of hot chocolate. 

"Thanks," Judy said. "Andy's still in shock, I think. Brack didn't exactly mistreat her, but he had her every move controlled by his men. Every time she gets up to do something or go somewhere there's this small pause before she remembers that there's nobody standing in her way here." 

"It's gonna take some time," Eliot said, "and a lot of patience, but she'll recover." 

"I can give you the numbers of some support groups if you want," Hardison said. 

Judy nodded. "That would be good," she said, her eyes fixed on the bar where Andrea and Parker were sipping hot chocolate and laughing every time Parker's antlers threatened to slip off her head. 

"About your fee," Judy added. "We never discussed money but--"

Eliot waved her off. "That's okay. We do our work mostly pro bono." 

"We have alternative revenue streams," Hardison added quietly. 

Eliot and Hardison exchanged a look, grinning. In this case, the alternative revenue stream were the _other_ diamonds and gem stones Parker stole from Brack, something they hadn't even known about until they were back on the plane home. 

Brack had his largest diamonds - his fake diamonds - in his main office safe. But during the days of waiting for the exchange to happen, Parker, restless and with itchy fingers, broke into his jewelry shop in the city center. Brack hadn't wanted to shut down the old shop until the new one was opened, so the display cases and the safe were loaded with precious stones, both real and fake. 

Parker stole the ones that had authentic certification and sold them on the same day, using Hardison's laptop to create a fake ID and a company ID that turned her into a Brack Diamonds employee from the London branch. Not that Brack Diamonds had a London branch. But the papers held up long enough for Parker to sell the gems in Brack's name and pocket the profit. 

At that point, Brack was so busy with the upcoming opening and making sure that nothing would go wrong that he didn't pay any attention to the old shop until it was too late. 

"I don't know what to say," Judy said. She took in a deep breath, sounding a little overwhelmed. "Thank you so much. Please, also extend our thanks to Mr...?" 

"Quinn," Eliot supplied. "Yeah, I'll make sure to pass it along." 

"Oh," Judy said, taking the small box he'd been carrying and handing it to Hardison. 

"We spent the first day back sleeping, the second crying and the third baking. We have enough Christmas cookies to last us until February." Judy smiled. "We figured that whatever we paid you wouldn't be nearly enough to truly pay you back, but this is the best we could come up with." 

Hardison lifted the lid of the box and grinned. He took a sugar cookie shaped like a Christmas stocking and bit the foot end off, chewing thoughtfully. 

"This is amazing," he said, nodding for emphasis. "Seriously, one of the best Christmas cookies I've ever had, and I've eaten both my nana's Christmas cookies and Eliot's." 

Judy beamed and Eliot managed to snag one of the cookies before Hardison put the lid back on and hugged the box to his chest. 

"I'm gonna--" Hardison pointed towards the back of the brew pub and then quickly started to make his way through the guests. He was halfway to the door when Parker loudly said "cookies?" and twisted in his seat, trying to spot Judy and the box of cookies. After that it didn't take long for Parker to chase after Hardison, demanding her share of the cookies. 

Eliot took a bite out of the single cookie he'd managed to snatch. It was delicious. 

"Are they always this... lively?" Judy asked, watching with wide eyes as Parker jumped onto Hardison's back, grabbed the cookie box and held it out of his reach. 

Eliot sighed and wondered, not for the first time, when he'd decided that taking up with two easily excitable, morally ambiguous and quite frankly _impossible_ criminals was a good idea. 

Across the pub, Parker got out of Hardison's reach and bolted, ducking around Eliot to hide behind him, Hardison fast on her trail. Eliot rolled his eyes when they ran around him chasing each other. With a wink at Judy, Eliot snatched the box out of Parker's arms as she passed, holding it up in victory, and decided that it must have been around the same time he started to consider them family.

**Author's Note:**

> I did a ton of research that I either used only partly or twisted around to suit my fic. So if you see anything you know a lot about and I do it WRONG, it was probably a deliberate decision. 
> 
> A few notes about synthetic diamonds... I spent _weeks_ doing research on synthetic diamonds for this fic. Of course that doesn't make me an expert, even though all that stuff was pretty fascinating. But I used artistic license for a few things. I'm pretty sure there are no 64 carat synthetic diamonds ANYWHERE and this mythical new production process that supposedly makes them indistinguishable from natural diamonds is pure fiction - it's kind of the other way around; people are inventing new methods to tell them apart easier. As for links to my research, well, this isn't a paper I'm writing for credits. Basically, if you google synthetic diamonds, I've read everything on the first two pages of results and from there on a few things about related, more specialized topics (like fluorescence and production processes and predictions of the influence of synthetic diamonds on diamond markets).
> 
> I have no idea how thermal imaging really works, but the very superficial research I did suggests that you CAN see through walls under certain circumstances (thin walls/doors, someone standing right on the other side). If not... well. *does the awkward turtle shuffle to the next point on the list*
> 
> The Hamilton safe actually exists (and I shamelessly took the described features from the website), but I have no idea how safecracking works and how much of a challenge this model would be for an expert safecracker. 
> 
> The name of Mrs. Hope that Parker gives Brack is, of course, an allusion to the Hope Diamond.
> 
> I imagined Parker's dress for the opening gala to be something like this: http://www.styleopen.com/women-follow-party-dress-code-winter-parties/how-women-follow-party-dress-code-for-winter-parties0010/
> 
> Judy and Andrea were inspired by the lesbian couple from the Person of Interest episode 2x07 "Critical" - [Madeleine and Amy](http://i.imgur.com/hioSSnL.jpg).
> 
> \------------
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♥


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